Monday - May 05, 2008

outpatient 

the waiting room shuffle 

Just a quick update here.  

After getting blue dye injected on Wednesday so my lymph nodes would be glowing nicely on Thursday, we checked into a lovely room to spend the night.  

The hospital called to say I should show up at 8 AM for my surgery and the gentleman on the phone was gracious enough not to laugh when I let a little "woo-hoo" slip out, thinking I was on the early list for surgery.  He then continued to list the time for my pre-surgery procedure, 9:30 and my actual surgery, 12:30.  That's AFTERNOON.  No food, water, gum, mints, and don't-you-dare-swallow-your toothpaste after midnight.  My stomach flipped.

We checked in at 8 AM, right behind Goofy.  80 year old Goofy was accompanied by his two coffee guzzling (Bitches! Give it to me!) daughters.  Once settled in the waiting room, he leaned over his daughter and my DH, twinkling eyes peering out from the shadows beneath his Goofy hat and stage whispered to me "Are you goin to Disneyland too?  I hope you sit next to me!"  Wink-wink.

The waiting room was large and full, with a maze of wooden armchairs with almost soft cushioned bottoms, an eccletic assemblage of artwork on the walls, an intricately adorned dollhouse in a display case, and piles of outdated magazines with pages ripped out.  Oh, and lots of nervous and bored people, some wearing standard issue gowns and floppy socks and hugging blankets.

In about an hour I got called for my fashion consult, and discovered that under those gowns, everyone got what the miniature dark lady with the Carribean accent insisted were "Victoria's Secrets".  She waved around what looked like a gingham gauze pad before stretching it out to reveal the full glory of my new underwear.  "For the pretty lady."  She smiled.

I shuffled (what else can you do in those floppy socks!?) back into the waiting room, now officially identified as someone going to Disneyland.  Some small eternity later, I got to shuffle back into the bowels of Disneyland to be examined by a nurse.  Whereupon I lied by not telling her about the vitamin water I drank for breakfast.

Back in the waiting room, I sent DH out to eat.  No sense his sitting and being hungry.  I instructed him to eat a Greek omelet, orange juice, coffe and a Cinnabon and return and tell me all about it.  Soon afterward a nurse came around and warned me to expect delays.  She didn't offer me a bag of peanuts with her bad news.  So I asked her some pointless questions, breathing my dry, hungry breath onto her sweet smile until she backed away in fear and disgust.  Sorry lady, I didn't mean to be mean... it was either that or chew on your sleeve... I saw the butter stain on it... mmm... buttered linen...

Another eternity later, two of us Robed Wonders were escorted downstairs to radiology, where we were sat in somewhat less comfortable chairs, in a more public lobby for 3 or 4 more eternities, watching other patients come and go and wondering what rides they had been on today or what shows they were going to see.

Finally, we were escorted through a maze of hallways to a tiny, comfortable waiting room with four chairs and a water cooler.  We clutched each other and watched in horror as employees came and apologetically refilled their cups with cool, fresh, water.  

An eternity and a half later, a woman emerged from the adjacent office with a haunted look and encouraging news... "That f'ing HURT!"   I was almost glad when my new comrade was called in first.  

This eternity of a wait stretched on the longest.  Boredom kicked in as I sat alone, realizing it must be nearly noon by now.  I couldn't sit any longer.  I stretched.   Jumped up and down a little.  Chorus line kicks, jumping jacks.  Macarena... how does that go again?  Can I jump up on this chair with both feet at once... Weeeeee!  

Whoops.  Now I'm really dizzy and light-headed.  Damned hypoglycemia.  I have to sit down again and slow down my breath.  Let's see, which would be better, yoga breathing or pilates breathing?  I close my eyes, concentrating on breathing all the way into my empty stomach, and the door opened.  My turn.

As they begin poking and prepping, the doctor explains what they're going to do... I know, I know... poke in a needle and leave a wire in place for the surgeon to find the lump.  Two, you say?  Are you sure?  She checks, yep, 2 sites need to be wired; there are 2 things coming out besides the lymph node.  Oh, goody!  I hope it's a buy-one-get-one-free sale!  

Once I'm all wired, with pink and purple stickers marking the spots, I'm excited thinking I can go back up to the big waiting room, all ready for surgery.  Then she sends in the little Oriental tech whom I can't understand.... she's not saying the "M"-word is she?  My tit's already bleeding and now you're gonna squeeze it with your mac-truck mammogram machine?  Do I have a choice?  She smiles.  

Let's just black that part out, okay?  All I really remember is that she had to take extras  because she didn't get it just right, and the sight of her mopping (my) blood off the machine made my stomach suddenly NOT feel hungry for a minute.  Just for a minute though - remember who you're talking to!

DH had tracked me down and I quizzed him about breakfast on the way back to my Home Waiting Room.  (He did NOT have the Cinnabon, I was so disappointed - nothing sweet and gooey whatsoever!)  He sat patiently with me, the not-so-patient patient, as we watched the waiting room slowly emptying, doctors calling families to report on the progress of their loved ones ... an eternity or two more passed until my name was called again.

After a quiz (Why are you here today?) and a quick kiss from DH everything happened very quickly.  Walk this way, lie down here, answer some questions... and then came Josephine.

She's a Disney character through and through, she seemed to serve no purpose other than to distract me while the technical crew did their jobs.  A job she did extraordinarily well.  "I'm the nosy one." She exclaimed proudly, by way of introduction.  Go on...

She asked about me and my family and proceeded to tell me her life story.  We shared a few odditities, some common ground relating to miscarriages and baptizing our own babies and loving our husbands and stuff.  She held my hand and hers were very warm as she stroked my arm "You're gonna be okay, honey."

My doctor came in and I said "What's up Doc?" and she smiled and asked if I was ready and everyone sang in perfect harmony "Yes."  And a soloist chimed in and sang "Now think of something really wonderful and beautiful."

... and I was on this lonely stretch of beach at Playa del Carmen in the early morning hours, looking out over the Gulf of Mexico and remembering how many times I stood on the beach in St. Petersburg looking out over the Gulf of Mexico and wondering if the beaches were as beautiful there as they are here... and realizing that they were - that the whole world was beautiful.